


Never Too Late

by Luinlothana



Category: Outlander (TV)
Genre: F/M, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:40:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23954728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luinlothana/pseuds/Luinlothana
Summary: What if Frank's accident happened sooner and Claire returned to Jamie before he married Laogharie? How would Claire adjust to her life as a widow before she found out she had someone to go back to? A story exploring alternative events, diverging from the season 3 storyline.
Relationships: Claire Beauchamp/Jamie Fraser
Comments: 26
Kudos: 143





	Never Too Late

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The author has no claim on the intellectual property connected to the story. No profit is being derived from its publication.
> 
> A/N: While the story starts soon after Claire's graduation from medical school, it doesn't lead her immediately back to 18th century. After all, it wouldn't lead her back to Jamie anyway. Instead, the story follows Claire and Brianna from the point where the story diverges from canon. Keep in mind that it's Frank's fate that serves as the point of divergence so it would have no impact on Jamie's life from surviving Culloden to returning from Helwater.
> 
> The story is based on the show and up to the point of divergence adheres to the timeline established there (which might be visible in details such as Brianna's age in relation to Claire's graduation).
> 
> It's likely my only foray into the Outlander fandom but I wanted to try my hand at it. I hope it turned out all right.
> 
> Special thanks to my beta, Mila-Mila-Rose.

Never Too Late

Claire honestly did not know how they got to that point.

The worst part of it was, it was supposed to be such a perfect evening: celebrating her earning a diploma and the invitation to join the team of the Massachusetts General Hospital as well as showing her daughter that in this day and age a woman really _could_ do anything, including graduating as a top student from a medical school. And then it all came crashing down like some infernal house of cards.

Of course, she wasn't so naive as to believe Frank didn't have lovers. She had tacitly agreed to this much when they decided to stop trying to rekindle the physical part of their relationship. It was bound to lead to them having more separate lives. Claire didn't even begrudge Frank because of his affairs. Her only retaliation were the bedtime stories. She gave her word not to tell Brianna who her real father was but one didn't spend time amongst the French court without learning to navigate through such nuances. Who could blame a mother for telling her daughter magical stories of a nurse transported through time by fairies to meet and fall in love with a dashing Scottish warrior? Really, if anything, Frank should have been proud for introducing fairy tales with such a generous amount of factually accurate historical knowledge. Not that she ever told him. Just like he wasn't supposed to force her to meet with his lover, especially on her own doorstep.

She couldn't say she was in a mood to do much celebrating afterwards, but she forced herself to plaster on a smile and go to dinner, promising herself to have words with her husband when Bree went to sleep.

That was what the rhythm of their life settled into in the months that followed. She did her best to focus on her work and on her daughter with her husband growing more and more distant, returning home late in the evenings, only to make some effort at being a doting husband and father at breakfast for Brianna's sake and to disappear for another day.

But even that routine seemed to be too much for him as his returns were stretching more and more into the night. It was a particularly unpleasant November night, just a few days after Bree's ninth birthday when Claire made up her mind to have a serious talk with Frank about it. As the clock in the living room struck twelve (what was she thinking, letting Frank put that clock there? This ticking sounded too much like that dreadful thing in Paris that kept her company through that sleepless night... she shook her head), she was beginning to suspect that Frank decided to throw all caution and appearance of propriety to the wind and actually spend an entire night with that girl.

Just as she was reaching that conclusion, the phone rang. She hurried to it, suspecting only the hospital could call her at such an ungodly hour. In a sense, she was right. It was the hospital. Only they weren't asking her to lend her experienced hand in a tricky surgery. This was much more personal. There had been an accident... The receiver slipped from her hand as she slid to the floor and started to cry.

III

It was in the morning, she supposed, that she could say a new chapter in their life had begun. Too tired to cry, she was grateful when she returned home from the hospital morgue to learn from Millie that Bree was still sleeping peacefully, blissfully unaware that her whole life crumbled overnight. Claire sat in a chair in her daughter's room, looking at the halo of red hair on her pillow, dreading the moment when she would have to tell her daughter the news.

Inevitably, the girl stirred eventually in her bed and opened her eyes.

"Mummy?"

"Good morning, Sweetheart," Claire managed trough tightened throat.

"Were you crying mummy?" Bree inquired, looking worried now at her mother's unexpected behaviour.

"I- Bree, there is something-" How do you tell your child she has no father anymore? "Daddy had an accident last night."

"An accident?

"Yes. Darling, a very serious one. Uncle Joe did all he could, but it wasn't possible to help Daddy. He-" Her voice broke at this point, but she forced herself to continue. " He won't be coming back."

At this Brianna's eyes grew large and filled with tears. Claire pulled her daughter close. Even though she thought she had no tears left to cry, she was proven wrong as her eyes, too, filled with them. Whatever disagreements they had with Frank they still shared a life together and had once loved each other. Now her daughter was all that she had left in the world. They stayed like that, crying in an embrace for a long time. Finally, Bree sniffed and drew back to look at her mother.

"Was that when he was out with Sandy?" The innocence of the question did nothing to soften the blow.

"Do you know Sandy then?" Claire couldn't help herself from asking.

"I've seen her with Daddy before. He told me she was his friend."

Something broke inside her as she heard that. All those years trying to give Brianna a normal family only to discover her husband couldn't even be discreet enough with his lover. It was just too much. How had they ended up in this tangled web? She blinked, trying to focus back in on her daughter.

"Yes, Daddy was with Sandy when the accident happened," she admitted. "But there is something else, sweetheart. You see, there is something you should know that your Daddy made me promise to tell you only after he was gone." Claire reached out to smooth a loose strand on her daughter's head. "Have you ever wondered where you got your lovely red hair?"

III

After the funeral she was hoping that things would somehow settle into a new routine. She was working hard at the hospital, now needing to rely on her income to support them both and to keep the house that held so many memories of Bree's growing up. She couldn't deny that it might not have been the most rational decision to refuse to look for a smaller place, but she valued Millie's friendship and helpful hand. She also couldn't help but be reminded of those early days of settling there with Frank, when she had still believed that in time they could go back to the way they were before she travelled through the stones.

Thankfully a surgeon's salary could be generous enough, especially when she had well-honed surgical skills that impressed even the doctors almost twice her age. Let it not be said that there was no silver lining to seeing enough of injury, war and carnage to last a few lifetimes.

With her job keeping her busy and spending all her free time with Bree, trying to fill the void created by Frank's absence, she hardly realised it was already December until Millie made a passing comment about helping them with their first Christmas alone.

Having not really thought about it before, the idea hit her hard. Separate lives or not, they always made an effort to celebrate Christmas together. The idea of it being just her and Brianna, separated by thousands of miles from anything familiar, seemed almost too much all of a sudden.

The salvation came in form of a letter from the wonderful Mrs Graham. Claire had called Reverend Wakefield to tell him about Frank's passing, of course, knowing they enjoyed a friendship and an occasional research collaboration. But she never expected a blessing in the form of an invitation to spend the holidays in Scotland.

The idea of being there again somehow made her heart feel lighter for the first time in weeks and the perspective of not having to endure Christmas trapped in old memories of Frank was liberating.

In the end, Claire wasted no time calling Mrs Graham to accept the invitation.

III

When they broke through the clouds as the plane started lowering its flight approaching Edinburgh, Claire couldn't help her heart quickening a bit as she pointed the sights out to Bree. They hadn't reached the Highlands yet, their plane flying from the South after the layover in London but still the longing that never completely quieted came back in full force. just a couple of hours more and she would be _home_ again.

She blinked as the thought honestly surprised her. She had spent years convinced that Boston was her home now. She even bought a vase to make a point about it. Several vases, to be honest. But as soon as she thought of Scotland the superficiality of her life in America would start falling away before she caught herself, which was usually how their house would earn another vase.

But there were no vases around now and in just a couple of minutes she would be standing on Scottish soil again. There was nothing to stop the feeling now. She was coming _home_. Even if everything that actually made the place home was nothing but history now.

As could be expected, Scottish weather in December didn't offer a cheerful greeting. _Dreich_ , she recalled, was the word used here to describe it. But at least it wasn't snowing. Snow, she knew, could prevent the trains going all the way up to Inverness, which would, at the very least, cause a delay on the last leg of their journey.

"So, _this_ is Scotland?" her daughter's tone as they stepped out of the plane had that unimpressed note only nine-year-olds are fully capable of. Clearly the homeland of her father failed to make an impression. Still, Claire felt her heart was lighter as she smiled at Bree.

"It is," she agreed. "Perhaps not the most picturesque part of it but I hear that's not the first thing on anyone's mind when choosing a location for an airfield. I'm sure once we go up north you'll find it has some charms."

"If you say so, Mum." Brianna still didn't seem convinced, but she followed her mother to the terminal to collect their luggage.

"You know, if we make good time getting to the train station we could still manage to get a nice walk in the Princess Gardens before boarding the train," Claire mentioned entreatingly. "I'm sure we could both use it after all those hours of sitting down."

"In this weather?" Bree stared at her mother.

Looking at her, Claire decided that the questioning look on her face was all the proof she needed that her daughter's youthful rebellion came early. Too bad she had to deal with it alone.

III

Mrs Graham was waiting for them as they stepped onto the platform of Inverness Railway Station.

"Finally, you're here, I was getting worried when the train was late. The Reverend would have come with me, but he tends to be busy before Christmas." She greeted as she gave Claire a warm hug before moving on to Brianna. "My, are you a bonnie lass. You have your mother's smile, you know. Now come, my dears, you look dead on your feet from the journey. I'm sure you'd like nothing better than to eat a warm meal and get a bit of rest."

She led them outside, through the snow on the streets, to the car parked nearby.

"Thank you, Mrs Graham," Claire said quietly as Bree settled in the back of the car. "For everything, really."

"Don't mention it, dear. I thought a change of scenery might be just what you'd need right now. You've been dealt a tough hand, and all we can do is to try to make it a bit easier for you. Now hop in. We need to get to the parish so you can get a bit of rest. And I can just bet nobody can make a proper kedgeree in that Boston of yours."

Claire laughed as she settled in the passenger seat.

"Most assuredly not. Especially not with your skill."

"You are too kind, dear. But now, maybe our young lady would like to learn a bit about the city." She smiled at Bree over her shoulder as she started the car. "Right over there you can see the Victorian Market. I'm sure you can persuade your mother to take you for a wee bit of Christmas shopping there in a day or two. I always loved it this time of year ever since I was a lassie myself. Now over there, on top of the hill you can see the Inverness Castle. It houses the Sheriff Court now, but it used to be a fortress. Long ago, when governor Gordon closed the gates to Mary, Queen of Scots, putting her in danger, her loyal supporters from the clans Mackenzie, Ross, Munro and Fraser took the castle for her."

Claire couldn't help her breath catching a little at the name even if it would have counted as long gone history even by Jamie's standards. Still, it made her thoughts drift away for a bit, wondering about the Fraser's luck at attaching themselves to lost causes. She was brought out of her thoughts moments later, hearing the tail end of Bree's question to Mrs Graham.

"-a cemetery?" the girl inquired

"That's the Tomnahurich Hill. It's said that it's often visited by the fair folk. Legend has it, there was a fiddler the fairies asked one night to play for them as they danced. In the morning, when he woke up on the banks of the River Ness, he discovered a hundred years had passed."

"Like when Mum was sent through time to my father?"

Mrs Graham paused, sending Claire an inquiring look, clearly surprised.

"I promised Frank only to tell her once he died. She deserves to know where she came from," Claire explained quietly.

The older woman nodded thoughtfully before addressing Brianna again.

"You could say that. There are places where the ancient powers are stronger than anywhere else in the world. I suppose the area from Tomnahurich to Craig Dunain could be one of them. There are many mysteries in the world that could not be easily explained by modern science. But let us not worry about it for now. We will be home in ten minutes and before we get there you can take a look at how wonderful the glens look, covered with snow."

They stayed silent for rest of the drive.

III

Reverend Wakefield greeted them as soon as they stepped in.

"Welcome, ladies. I hope your journey wasn't too bad?"

"Thank you, Reverend." Claire smiled. "It's was quite nice, if a bit long. I don't believe you had a chance to meet my daughter Brianna."

"Ah, of course. Very nice to meet you, my dear. Your father wrote me about you. He was very proud. Why don't you go on to the kitchen? My son Roger is setting the table for tea and I will help your mother with the bags."

Despite being exhausted from the journey, Bree nodded and skipped in the indicated direction. Once she was out of sight the Reverend addressed Claire again.

"Let me tell you in person once again, Mrs Randall, I was very sorry to hear about Frank. He was a good friend and a good man."

"He was. And it's Claire, please. You've been a very good friend to Frank, and I know you've been calling him by his first name for years."

"Claire then," he agreed. "I know it must be a hard time for you. If there is any help I can offer, just tell me about it."

"Actually what you've already done, inviting us here was more than we could have hoped for."

"Think nothing of it, Claire. It's the least I could do. I know it must be hard to be alone now at a time like this."

"I won't deny it. Your invitation came as a blessing. I don't have any immediate family anymore. Not since my uncle passed away."

"Then I insist you allow us to invite you to be a part of ours."

"Thank you."

III

That Christmas they spent mostly remembering Frank. In a way, it was being in Scotland that really helped Claire come to terms with everything.

Back in America it was easier to remember everyday frustrations rather than the connection that had once been between them. Here, with the Scottish Highlands well in view her memories of Frank no longer were those of a husband she had been drifting away from but of the man who loved her, the man she cried after when she thought she would never see him again. The man she told Jamie about. The man who took her back after being missing for two years.

When they were leaving in the beginning of January with an invitation to come and stay for a month in the summer, Claire felt she was ready to face the future again. She was also more certain than she ever was that her heart would always remain in Scotland.

As soon as they came back to Boston, Claire sat down to take a look at their budget to make sure they would be able to afford the airplane tickets again in a few months time. There were things they would need to economise on. She cancelled a subscription to a medical journal, deciding she could always read it in the university library, and she decided to give up the expensive perfumes she'd always used. Even then, she never even considered giving up on paying for Bree's riding lessons. While it was Frank's idea to sign her up for those, the girl really took to horses. Quietly, Claire thought she knew who she took after when it came to that passion.

III

To be honest, Claire wasn't really sure whose idea it was in the first place. All she knew was that, a few days after they'd arrived in Inverness, Mrs Graham wordlessly handed her the car keys. At her surprised look the housekeeper elaborated.

"You've searched high and low for any mention of him when you first came back, and I can see in your eyes that in all those years you haven't let go of him. Maybe it's time to visit the one place you didn't look?"

"Do you think there is a point?" she asked doubtfully

"I'm sure I can think of nothing else I could help you with. Unless it is with watching over Brianna while you go."

Claire thought about it.

"I think I could take her with me, actually. She might be too young to understand it fully, so the impact won't be as hard, and she could at least learn something about why her father sent us back. That has to count for something."

"It does, dearie. I assure you."

It wasn't a long drive. Claire felt in no hurry to reach the place and it still had been barely twenty minutes before they reached their destination. Just parking in front of the visitor centre seemed to be too much, with the awareness of the battlefield just a few yards away. For Brianna's sake she finally managed to collect herself and step out of the car.

"Where are we?" Bree's voice tore her away from her thoughts as she was regarding the place, so deceptively peaceful right now, with the wind carrying the smell of wildflowers warmed by the summer sun.

Claire took in a deep breath.

"This- This is Culloden Moor. We are in a place where a great battle was fought, two hundred years ago. One that your father took part in."

"It doesn't look like much," the girl decided critically

"I wouldn't expect it to be very turbulent," Claire explained quietly. "People try to be respectful of those that died in the battle. I suppose you could view it like going to a cemetery. Shall we go in?" she gestured the building housing the museum dedicated to the battle.

"All right." Bree nodded, then turned thoughtful. She seemed to be mulling on something as they were walking towards the building and just before entering she inquired, "Is this where my father died?"

Claire stilled, her hand on the door handle. She felt her eyes might have been a touch glassy and her voice a little hoarse when she finally replied.

"I don't know, sweetheart. All I know is that when he told me to leave he intended to join the battle. I looked in various books and documents, both from the reverend's and Daddy's collections but never found a mention of him after the date of the battle."

"So, it could be just another historical place we're visiting," her daughter decided resolutely. "Like going on a trip to Washington."

"I suppose it could be," Claire forced herself to say, opening the door, her mind silently reviewing the faces of the people she knew that were lost in the battle.

Surprisingly, Bree's approach helped a bit as they started to look around with Claire relating the story, slightly edited in view of the listener's age, of the Jacobite uprising. Eventually the suffocating pain of the associations with this place eased a bit, replaced by recollections of the past. She even allowed herself to join her daughter in speculations as to the possible purpose of some unspecified items in the glass cases.

Then Brianna stepped in front of the next case, her eyes opening with wonder.

"This is very pretty," she pronounced.

Claire stepped closer to see what had gotten the girl's attention and froze. Sitting there, on a bit of slightly faded velvet, was a piece of amber that she knew very well. So well, in fact, that without ever seeing it again she could describe it down to the smallest detail.

The walls of the room seemed to be closing in all of a sudden and dark spots started dancing in front of her eyes.

"Bree, could we step outside now? I think I could use a bit of fresh air," she managed to say, in hopes of not alarming her daughter.

Obediently, the girl took her hand and went with her outside, to the Culloden Moor. As she felt the fresh breeze on her face, Claire did her best to collect herself. After all, hadn't she wanted to know? Now she was hoping, for the first time, that the answer she got was more ambiguous.

After a minute or two she felt she collected herself enough to look at her daughter without alarming her.

"Shall we look for the Fraser stone now?"

Brianna nodded silently and hand in hand they went forward into the moor.

III

It was strange, how unassuming the stone was, given that it had to represent so many familiar faces and so many lives lost senselessly. They spent over an hour there, the girl standing silently as her mother spoke softly, addressing her father. Finally, after Claire felt she ran out of things to say, Brianna spoke.

"We could bring flowers the next time. Like we do when we visit Daddy's grave."

Claire smiled tearfully, taking Bree's hand.

"That's a wonderful idea, Sweetheart."

As they were walking back, her eyes were drawn to the cottage where the Redcoats organised a field hospital during the battle. She couldn't help but wonder if the Jacobite losses could be just a little bit smaller if they were afforded the same luxury. Or if simply their trained medic hadn't been thrown back two centuries into the future just as the battle began.

With a heavy heart Claire led her daughter back to the car.

III

When they came back early in the afternoon, Mrs Graham was waiting for them. Wordlessly, she offered Claire a hug and led them to the kitchen where she made tea for them.

"Did you find the answers you were looking for, dearie?" she eventually asked softly, placing the cup in front of her, as Brianna was busying herself with the scones.

Claire stared at the brown liquid in the cup without drinking.

"I suppose I did find some answers. Only now that I did, I doubt I was really looking for them."

"Trust me, my dear, it may not feel like that right now but it's better this way. Many a lass never found what happened to their husbands during the last war. Not knowing never helped them any." The woman placed her hand on Claire's shoulder. Then spoke more loudly, clearly addressing Bree as well. "I was planning to take Fiona to the cinema today to see that new _Johnny Tremain_ film. I thought Brianna could come with us."

Claire managed to smile as she looked at her daughter whose eyes were shining and who was wearing a hopeful look on her face. Apparently, a soft spot for 18th century rebels ran from mother to daughter.

"I don't see why not, as long as she promises to behave herself."

"I will!" the girl assured quickly.

"Well, it's all settled then. We will be leaving in about an hour," Mrs Graham informed.

Having the evening to herself, Claire sat in their room for a while, playing with Jamie's ring on her finger. Then she cried herself out into a pillow.

III

They were returning from their annual visit to the Culloden moor when Claire heard the song for the first time. They were both silent. Her, because she was overwhelmed with the emotions that place still evoked and Brianna, she knew, trying not to show her growing doubts as she was maturing into the very rational 20th century way of thinking. She didn't recall which one of them decided to switch the radio on to fill the uneasy silence, but once Stewart's voice filled the air it didn't really matter.

_In the great glen they lay a-sleeping,  
_ _Where the cool waters gently flow._  
_And the gray mist is sadly weeping,_  
_For those brave lads of long ago._

As soon as they were back in town Claire found a shop where she could buy a vinyl with the song. She carefully packed it to take it safely back to Boston.

 _Some return from the fields of glory,  
_ _To their loved ones who held them dear.  
_ _But some fell in that hour of glory,  
_ _And were left to their resting here._

Somehow it usually found itself on top of Bree's frequently played, eclectic rock and roll collection next to their record player. After several months Claire discovered she could even listen to the whole song without tears appearing in her eyes.

 _Sleep in peace my soldier laddie,  
_ _Sleep in peace, now the battle's o'er._

III

When they came to Scotland the next year Brianna couldn't help but feel the doubts in her head intensify. It was one thing to be offered a charming tale as a child, but it was quite another to be expected to accept it as reality long after you abandoned beliefs in fairies, unicorns and Easter bunnies. And having that as the only explanation for her personal history left her in an unenviable situation of having to choose between the rationality and giving up her own identity altogether.

She wondered if her mother was on some level aware of her internal turmoil because as soon as they settled in Inverness, she once again expressed interest in going down a memory lane and visiting some sites. Some of them familiar, some that Bree had never been to.

She hoped her eye roll wasn't too visible as she agreed to her mother's plans with, at best, lukewarm enthusiasm.

III

"This is where you could have grown up, had things turned out differently," Claire informed Brianna as they were sitting in the car parked next to the building that had once upon a time been her home, Lallybroch.

Now it was barely more than a shell of a building, a stone wraith, haunting her with images from the past. The property was for sale, but she couldn't imagine who would be willing to buy it with the state it was now in. She doubted it was even possible to return the place to its former glory. Who knew how long it had been since the roof collapsed?

"It's hard to imagine living anywhere with a real family," Bree voiced finally, bringing her mother back to the present. "Having actual relatives."

"I'm sorry you never had a chance to." Claire said gently, looking around. "There used to be a stable over here," she gestured. "And if the day was nice like today, Jenny and Mrs Crook would often work just here, sometimes doing laundry, sometimes mending some clothes and even doing some embroidery. And those windows over there were of the parlour. It had a wonderful big fireplace. Perhaps we could see it, if there is some opening in the boards on the windows."

Claire stopped reminiscing as she became aware of her daughter looking at her with curiosity.

"You really can recall that, can't you?" the girl asked eventually.

"Of course I do. How could I possibly forget this?"

"I did wonder, you know. What the real story was. The way I see it, there were a couple of options. I mean, if you wanted to lie to me about my real father, I'm sure you'd have come up with something more believable. Especially if you didn't' want me knowing the truth. So, I had to assume you believed what you were telling me. Only it was impossible, and you didn't have a shred of proof. Of course, there was a chance that you somehow lost those two years and had false memories covering those blanks. But you are the most rational person I know and Mrs Graham always seemed to believe your story. Still, the only other option was that it was true which sounds even crazier. I honestly didn't know what to think."

"Oh, Bree." Claire pulled her daughter into a hug. "Why didn't you say something instead of battling those thoughts?"

"How could I?" The girl shrugged. "I mean, if it was real, I had no right to question it and if it wasn't, confronting you about it wouldn't give me any answers and could only hurt you."

Claire looked at her child seriously.

"Brianna, you are my daughter and a very smart young lady. Never let anyone tell you that you have no right to question something and most definitely don't ever tell yourself that. Critical mind and curiosity are what brought us every scientific advancement we know. Don't try to suppress them, especially not in order to spare my feelings." She sighed. "And for what it's worth, you might as well try to apply science to what happened to me. If there ever was a scientific explanation it has eluded me but maybe you will have some luck."

Brianna gave her a teary smile "I guess there _are_ things in heaven and earth not dreamt of in your philosophy, huh? But if the majority of the human population believes there is some intangible higher power, who am I to say that said power couldn't have manifested itself in some rocks?"

"Please, don't let the Reverend hear you speak like this."

"He turns a blind eye to his housekeeper being a member of a pagan cult. I don't think he'll mind." Brianna rolled her eyes, making Claire laugh briefly.

"Still, it might be better not to push for an image of a cheeky American teenager disrespectful of any authority. Besides, I believe he calls it preserving local traditions. Now, what would you say if we headed back to town and stopped at the registrar's office on our way back? Maybe we could figure out what happened to the estate?"

"Let's."

III

The room was filled with that particular smell of dust and old paper that one could find around archives and libraries. The window being open a crack did little to introduce any air movement to the place, which might not have been a bad thing considering the document currently being displayed.

"-it's the earliest document we have in our files." The registrar was explaining. "A deed of sasine, transferring the title to the property from James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser to James Jacob Fraser Murray. The property was transferred in 1745, witnessed by Murtagh Fitzgibbons Fraser and Claire Bauchamp... well, it's a bit smudged but I think her surname 's Fraser as well."

After that Brianna didn't really hear anything of what was being said. She had a vague idea that her mother and the registrar kept talking but she couldn't help but focus on the signature on the obviously very old document.

She knew her mother's handwriting all too well. Not that she would admit it, but there were times when she even used that knowledge in practice so as not to bother her mother with some school forms or permissions that might have needed her signature. Every curve in her name and the angle of the line she could summon with her eyes closed and while seeing Fraser instead of Randall was a break from the routine, she could readily swear on her own life that the signature she was looking at was her mother's. She tried to examine that thought in her head. Her mother's signature was on a document created in 1745. That couldn't possibly be a forgery of any sort because even if it was possible to somehow make it look that old it had probably been kept in the registrar's office long before her mother was even born.

Not so long ago, when she was torn by doubts she had been hoping to have some more tangible proof of truth in her mother's fantastic story. Now, having one, she couldn't help but wish for the comfort of the perfectly rational world.

She was still in a daze as they stepped back outside and got into the car, her mother handing her a folder with copies of the documents they were searching for. Bree couldn't help but open the folder to take another look.

"I don't suppose there is a chance this deed isn't actually as old as it says it is?" she asked cautiously, only to have her mother laugh.

"Actually, there is every chance. Jamie dated it back on purpose so it would appear to have been written before the rising."

"That's not exactly the answer I was hoping for."

"I know, sweetheart. But on the bright side, now you know I was telling the truth."

"I guess," Bree allowed, still unsure how she was feeling about it. "I don't suppose we could extend our trip a little bit and go see the stones themselves?"

"I suppose we could. We still have two hours before Mrs Graham expects us back for tea."

Her mother sounded hesitant, but she changed the direction and once again drove out of town. Within thirty minutes they parked at the end of the road, where the path towards Craigh na Dun started.

Once the stones came into view Brianna was suddenly hit by the realisation of what could be responsible for her mother's mood.

"This is the last place you saw my father, isn't it?" she asked in whisper.

"It is. I can still recall it as if it just happened yesterday."

"I can only imagine-" Brianna turned away from her mother, took a few steps in the direction of the stone circle and stopped, closing her eyes and listening. "I do hear some humming. Is that what you were talking about?"

"It's not as strong, now. I suppose it might intensify closer to the old holidays. The dates for those had to be chosen for a reason after all."

"This is just so-"

"Impossible?" Her mother supplied when Bree couldn't find words.

"That, yes. And overwhelming. I don't even know how I'm supposed to feel about it. How can this even-"

"It's a lot to take in, I know. Why don't we head back and then have some nice hot tea? Or perhaps some lemon balm? I suspect you went through your share of emotional moments today?"

"Actually, that sounds pretty nice," Brianna admitted as they started walking back to the car.

III

Claire was frowning, sitting in the cosy kitchen, studying electrocardiogram results, paying little mind to the tea that was growing cold next to her. Her medical knowledge was currently battling with her wish to enchant reality. In her mind she was rapidly trying to review every article she read in the medical journals that could possibly offer some solution.

"I probably shouldn't be even bothering you with this, dearie. You are here on holiday." Mrs Graham spoke next to here, tearing her away from her musings.

"Of course you should. It's no bother. I just wish-"

"That there was something you could do? I already know the diagnosis. I simply wanted a second opinion, just in case. Andy MacDonald had been my doctor for years and I trust his expertise, but he is not getting any younger and people _are_ talking about how advanced medicine is in America nowadays."

"In some areas, perhaps. In others it's nothing but exaggeration," Claire admitted. "If you like, I can take a look at your prescriptions, but from the cursory glance I took earlier nothing stood out as incorrect. Mrs Graham if I could-"

"Nonsense, my dear. I knew I had the problems with my heart for a while now. They were bound to eventually take a turn for the worse. I'm not a young lass anymore you know. Now please, don't worry about it."

"How could I not? Not only are you my friend, but I'm well aware you shouldn't be exerting yourself and we've even added to your duties by coming here. If there is anything I could do to help you..."

"Fiona has already been helping me, taking over some of the everyday tasks. And having you here with us is a joy. I'd much rather enjoy every minute I still can with friends and family than spend my days worrying about what is to come. Now let's see what the kids are doing, shall we? I swear not so long ago you couldn't herd them in to get them to come back from playing in the garden and now they're all grown."

"The charm of passing time I suppose," Claire allowed herself to smile.

"You should leave sentiments like that to old women like myself, my dear. Now, I think I can hear the telly from the library so I suppose we should start by looking there."

True to her word, both Brianna and Fiona were in the library, watching a scene of a police telephone box disappearing with an eerie sound. At the desk, Roger was also watching, doing his best to give an appearance of studying some university textbook rather than socialising with the younger girls. Both women shared an amused look at his rather unsuccessful attempt, then sat down themselves, watching the last few scenes of the show.

All the same, Claire couldn't quite chase away the thoughts of the conversation she just had with Mrs Graham. She knew, of course, that nobody could be immortal, but she could hardly imagine no longer having the warmth and support the woman was so eager to give.

When the credits appeared, Bree turned to her mother with a contemplative look. "Do you think the uprising had to happen because without it there wouldn't be so much history to discover and Daddy would never have brought you here so you could go back to meet my father and warn him about the uprising?"

Being faced with such a question out of the blue, Claire blinked at her daughter, her previous line of thought forgotten.

"I just don't know, sweetheart. I have no idea how any of that worked or why it did."

"Still, if it was like that, then you didn't so much fail because the history happened the way it was supposed to, but stole away whatever time you could, right? So, in a way, you should count that as a good thing." Just when did her daughter become so grown up all of a sudden?

"I wish it was so easy, Bree. Living on stolen time, even if you make every minute count, it can, at best, be bittersweet." She couldn't help a subtle glance at Mrs Graham as she said that.

III

Claire decided that Brianna's graduation was probably as good a point as any to finally get around to clearing Frank's study. She had been putting it off, she knew, holding onto the last memento of the man she had once fallen in love with.

She kept telling herself she was keeping it for Bree's sake too, so that it would always seem like her Dad was not completely gone but just away for whatever reason. But now Bree was grown up, had just graduated high school and would be starting a college soon. That meant that she would either want to move out, making it completely irrational to stay in this big house all by herself or she'd need a study of her own. In either case it was high time to do what she should have done ages ago and finally clear out Frank's desk.

With a heavy heart she opened the first drawer.

Thankfully this wasn't as hard as she thought. some writing utensils, a broken watch - wasn't that the one that got wet when they went camping in Pawtuckaway State Park? A long-dried chestnut - why would he even keep that there? Was it something Bree brought him? A 1957 pocket calendar that he must have bought and never got to use...

Claire closed her eyes for a moment. At least she was done with the first drawer and could move to the second one. She supposed it was a blessing that Frank had always been so neat. There were some papers there, now yellowed with age. A faded newspaper clipping regarding some conference at the university. A whole stack of handwritten notes for what had to be, as she surmised after the first couple of pages, one of his lectures. Then, at the very bottom of the drawer was a cardboard folder. She glanced inside, not expecting much from it and felt a sudden chill.

She sat down in the desk chair, placed the open folder before her and read the document again, carefully. Still, there was no mistaking the fact that what she had before her were divorce papers. Undated, but still unmistakably there. How could she not know? Then again, she had honestly been aware that while they were trying, they didn't have the marriage they had once thought they would. Had Sandy been-

Claire lifted the papers, only to have another piece of paper fall out of the folder, drifting to the floor. She bent down to see what it was. At first she was confused as to what she was looking at. It seemed to be a copy of some old document, bearing the stamp of the St Andrew's University. She had almost dismissed it as part of Frank's research mixing into the papers when her eye caught the name Fraser in the text. She started reading more carefully.

It seemed to be a part of the record dealing with the Jacobites who survived the battle. There was a marked part, describing how a group of seriously wounded Jacobite soldiers took refuge in an old house for two days before they were found by the British Army and taken to be shot with the exception of one who managed to escape. An officer, a Fraser of the Master of Lovat's regiment. On the margin, in Frank's handwriting were five names of the Fraser officers. Four of them had a mark next to their name. And the remaining one...

Claire started to sob, overwhelmed by what she was seeing. She couldn't be certain of course. She wasn't even sure what the marks meant. But could it be- was it possible that Frank was actually about to give her a chance to go back to Jamie when the accident put a stop to those plans?

Once she managed to calm down, she stood up, wiping her face, with a new resolve. Even if there was the slimmest of chances she had to go back to find out.

III

She never hid her plans from her daughter, but she was nonetheless surprised when Brianna announced that she decided she wouldn't be attending Harvard in the autumn, choosing instead to take a year break and help her mother pack and sell the house.

"I don't think I want to go somewhere where I would be seen simply as late Frank Randall's daughter," she explained to her mother. "And I certainly wouldn't be living alone in this huge house anyway. You are planning to try your luck back in Scotland, I thought I could as well. I would have a year to see what the colleges have to offer there. It certainly could be interesting to try Edinburgh and attend the same university as Arthur Conan Doyle."

Claire smiled teasingly.

"I never knew you were so interested in following my footsteps and studying medicine."

Brianna grimaced. "Maybe not the same department then. Still. And if nothing else, at least if your time travel thing works out, I have someone I know there. Here it would only be Uncle Joe and he is as busy as you."

"Everybody is busy these days, Bree."

"Oh, I don't know. I always felt time went a bit slower in Inverness."

"That was because you were on holidays."

"In any case, I made up my mind. Plus, I called Fiona and she has no problem with me staying for a bit until I figure some things out."

Claire sighed. She supposed it shouldn't come as a surprise how close the girls had become over the years with her and Brianna spending their holidays in Scotland. Fiona and Bree were almost the same age and the latter didn't have any family her age to form a connection with so, in a way, the two had become honorary cousins of sorts. And they had grown closer still with the passing of Fiona's beloved grandmother two years ago, when Bree supported her through the hard time.

It was perhaps for the better that girls had made arrangements like this, Claire supposed. While Brianna was an adult now, staying in America she would only have her old school friends to rely on, possibly Joe in times of crisis, but at this point Reverend Wakefield, Roger and Fiona were perhaps the closest thing to a family Bree knew. Having them closer could only be beneficial for her.

When she first started contemplating the logistics of ensuring Brianna could safely pursue her future in the twentieth century as she travelled back, Claire was reluctant to uproot her daughter before leaving her, but perhaps this solution would be better for Bree if she felt confident enough to propose it herself.

"Well then, far be it from me to get involved in the arrangements made by two adult ladies. I just hope you will seriously consider your options in Britain. I'm sure Roger will be willing to offer you advice if you need it."

"I'll keep that in mind."

III

If there was one thing Claire was certain about when preparing for the journey, it was that she would never again be unprepared for what she could face in the past. Which was why she was now carefully transcribing a paper from the Oxford University regarding their lab turned into wartime penicillin factory, throwing in additional notes about possible substitutes for lab equipment.

She had, of course, already packed a few vials of the antibiotic ready for injection but just as she intended to keep the gold in several places on her person, she wouldn't be entirely comfortable with a limited, in no way replaceable stock. Granted, it might take a few years before she could get any viable results, but this precaution made her feel more at ease. As did carefully packing two portable medical cases.

She didn't expect she'd need much in the way of food rations, but her wartime experience reminded her that she should probably get some anyway.

A knock on the door tore her away from her musings.

"Come in!" She called and saw the door to the room opening, revealing Reverend Wakefield.

"I hope I'm not disturbing you, Claire?" he asked, stepping into the room. "I know you are probably busy with your preparations."

"Not at all, please, come in. Thank you again for helping me and your promise to look after Brianna. I know she is a grown woman, but it is a relief knowing she'll have someone to turn to."

"Of course she will. I have told you many times already that you are like family. Do you have everything you need for the journey?"

It was visible that he wasn't entirely comfortable speaking about the event. Claire could only extrapolate what it meant for a man of the cloth to openly accept the possibility of magic. It must have been hard when she first offered it as an explanation for her disappearance but then, at least, it was already in the past, not something she needed to actively prepare herself for. With his assistance at that. Still, the best she could do was to bring the event to the most commonplace level possible.

"I believe so. I still need to pack a few things, but I seem to be mostly ready." Claire smoothed out the skirt of the dress she had tailored shortly before leaving Boston. It wasn't exactly accurate - it would have been hard to explain why something that was supposed to be a costume had to do without modern commodities like zippers and elastic bands.

"It could be dangerous, going there alone."

"It could be," she agreed. "But I am now familiar with the time and prepared. Besides, I won't need to be travelling far."

"Still, I would feel better if I knew you had a way to defend yourself."

"What do you mean?"

The Reverend looked decidedly uncomfortable.

"Let's suppose that some old men retained a souvenir or two from their days in the Home Guard. Perhaps this is the right time to pass some of those on. You were on the frontlines, I suppose you know how to make use of this."

With that he handed her a small bundle. Upon removing the cloth that covered it, Claire couldn't help but stare at the Wembley revolver that appeared underneath. She looked up at the Reverend.

"I couldn't possibly."

"You could. What's more, I'll thank you for it. I'm not getting any younger, Roger wouldn't know how to use it and should he ever have any children of his own, it would just pose a risk to them. There is not much ammunition left for it but what is there, I packed with it."

"I..." Claire broke off, unsure what she wanted to say before finally settling on "thank you."

"No, thank you. This will at least give me peace of mind that you'll be safe when you go. And I'll keep you in my prayers as well." With that he cleared his throat and opened the door again. "Well, that being done, Fiona will probably be expecting us at dinner shortly."

As he opened the door a sound of giggle was carried from downstairs followed by Bree's and Fiona's voices.

"I don't know about it," Claire smiled. "Brianna seems to be running diversion in the kitchen."

Despite her words she got up, re-wrapped the gun and tucked it safely into her bag before heading down. She would only have a few days to create memories with her daughter. It was time to make sure she didn't waste any chance of doing that.

III

It was truly amazing how fast the time was going by when you just had a little of it. All too soon Claire found herself standing in the pre-dawn chill after the nigh of Samhain, as Brianna and Fiona were helping unpack her bag from the car parked at the beginning of the path towards Craigh na Dun, all while whispering furiously.

A part of her was already feeling out of place, dressed as she was in the 18th century clothing. Another part, however, was painfully aware that she would be saying goodbye to her daughter, whom she might never see again. That thought was almost physically painful, no matter how much she tried to reason with herself.

"What if you won't find him?" Brianna asked suddenly, as Fiona was reaching for something from the boot of the car.

"Then I suppose I'll come back. But then, at least, I will know for sure."

"But I won't." the girl argued, confusing her.

"Brianna?"

"If you don't come back, I will be stuck wondering if you managed to find each other or if something simply happened to you when you had no one with you to help you."

"I doubt it would come to that, Bree. Besides, it's a bit late for such considerations. I promise, when we find each other I'll try to leave something for you to find so you'd know we're all right."

"What if I have a better idea?" At her mother's questioning look Bree elaborated. "Why not take someone with you?"

"You know that's impossible."

"But it's not. You know I can hear the stones as well. We could go through them together."

"Sweetheart, just think about it. I might have left my heart behind there, but you have your whole life here in the twentieth century. You can choose your own path, get education, have a career... You have all the possibilities here."

"Those possibilities include another missile crisis happening tomorrow and a nuclear war starting. Weren't you about my age when the second world war broke out? All those things you talk about could be taken away from me in a blink. You can't predict the future. None of us can. In fact, the only way we _could_ have any idea what lies ahead would be to go to the past."

"Bree..." Claire could honestly not think of a way to respond to her daughter's words. Every mother's first instinct was to protect their child by any means necessary but to this extent? To take her away from all the options and opportunities only to protect her from uncertainty about the future that every human faced every day?

"Mum, please," Brianna met her gaze letting her mother see the determination that belied the earlier fatalistic declarations." The way I see it, we either don't find anything, in which case we would come back and still have time for me to apply to a university for the next year. Or, we _do_ find my father. I've never had any blood relatives other than yourself, you know that. I've always wondered what it would be like. This is my one chance to find out, no matter the outcome of this journey otherwise. Could you at least allow me that much?"

"You aren't even prepared," Claire pointed out, only to see her daughter look at her with an expression that could only be described as impish, before sending a conspiratorial look to Fiona.

"I grew up with a historian for a Dad and with your stories of your life there. It's actually the time my father is from. I'm as ready as I could be." Saying that, she accepted a fully stuffed canvas rucksack from Fiona, who reached back into the boot, retrieving a large amount of cloth that could only be a dress.

"How...?"

"Bought it from the theatre. They offered some worn out costumes and it was too good an opportunity to miss. It needed a bit patching up, but Fiona helped me with that, and I figured that way I'd blend in better than if it was brand new."

Not waiting for her mother to comment, Brianna slipped the dress on over her jeans and jumper. It was a little too big for her, allowing her to get away with it. Then she hugged Fiona and threw one strap of the rucksack over her shoulder. Claire could hear a mumbled "good luck" that the younger girl whispered to her daughter.

"You had it all planned then?"

"If I told you, you might have tried to talk me out of it."

"I probably still should."

"No. Let's do this together. I want to find out what happened to my father as much as you do. If there is a chance I could actually meet him, I wouldn't want to miss it for the world. And if we _do_ find him, then we can think of my options. I mean, if you managed to go back, I could too, if I decided to return."

For the longest time, Claire could only look at her daughter carefully. In the end, she couldn't tell how big a part of her decision played on the fact that she couldn't help but see this very familiar look of stubborn determination that she learned to love so long ago. Longing awoke in her heart again and she couldn't chase away the impression that she could hear the humming of the stones even from this distance.

"Alright. But I want you to keep in mind that you do have the option to go back."

"I will."

III

In the end, Brianna thought, it was almost anticlimactic. They have said their tearful goodbyes to Fiona, grabbed each other's hands and on the count of three touched the stone. Then, the next thing they knew, they were sitting on the ground, blinking at the first rays of dawn, with Fiona nowhere in sight.

"Did it work?" she asked her mother cautiously.

"I suppose it must have. We can probably only find out by getting to town and learning what year it is."

"That is bound to be a fun conversation. What's our cover story? Socialising with fairies?"

"I wouldn't joke about it right now," her mother cautioned. "People still tend to treat that seriously around here."

"Then I propose we _don't_ lead in with asking for the year."

"I _was_ hoping asking for a current paper might yield better results, if we can find one. But we still have at least an hour worth of a walk before us to think of a story if you want to propose something better."

"Newspaper's good, now that you mention it." Brianna got up, dusting her dress and picking up her bag. "Inverness is that way, isn't it?"

III

In the end it took them closer to two hours to actually get to town. What would have been a walk on an easy road two hundred years in the future decidedly wasn't that now, not in November in the Highlands. If they were being honest with themselves, they should have expected that from the start.

By the time they got there, they were tired and eternally grateful to Fiona for secreting a thermos filled with hot tea in Brianna's bag with food provisions. Still, both aware of the time keeping them at a disadvantage and their limited resources, they directed their first steps to the stables in hopes of procuring further transport.

While they did manage to get a slightly worn copy of the _Caledonian Mercury_ from one of the coachmen, to their dismay they learned that there wouldn't be anyone travelling in the direction of Lallybroch who would be willing to take passengers. When they inquired about getting a horse they were pointed in the direction of someone called Old Anndra, however, as soon as they found him, it turned out that the owner of the stables, while a pleasant enough man, was not willing to let them hire a horse without any guarantees.

Brianna looked self-consciously at her patched-up dressed and wondered how her appearance might have impacted the man's decision. Determined to do her best to rectify the situation, she spoke up.

"What if you sold us a horse?"

The man chuckled good-naturedly.

"Horses ain't cheap, lassie. A good one could cost you over ten pounds."

"What about less...good ones?"

"Listen, I know there are men who would jump at the opportunity of taking advantage of two ladies travelling alone. I value my reputation and am too old for such tricks, so I'll tell you straight. I don't have any cheap horses that I'd recommend if you are planning to make a journey. I do have a few mares that ain't much good under saddle anymore that I hoped to use for breeding but nothing much came of it."

"What's wrong with them then?" Bree's eyes shone with interest suddenly and Claire couldn't help a feeling the girl had managed to quite forget she was out of her time and in an unfamiliar place as soon as the equines came into the picture.

"It's like they say, a horse is only as good as its legs." The man gestured for them to follow and went to the back of the building, where in a large stall stood three admittedly unimpressive mares.

The bay one moved closer to them upon seeing their approach, as if inviting the man to pat her neck affectionately. Her spine curved rather dramatically right behind the withers.

"A bit swaybacked, isn't she?" Brianna asked. "I would have guessed she had too many foals, but you said she wasn't any good for breeding."

"Unfortunately not. Ridden too hard, too soon, I'm afraid. A pity too, she seemed quite promising. Bought her young but she never managed to carry a foal to term."

The girl petted the horse before moving her hand down her back.

"She doesn't seem uncomfortable. Perhaps with a light rider, limited work and exercise from the ground she could get a bit better."

"Aye, perhaps, lassie. But it would be a lot of work for a very uncertain result and I have a whole stable of horses to look after."

Claire supposed she should be grateful that her daughter, preoccupied as she was, didn't forget herself and ask if the horse had the back x-rayed at any point. Still, it was hard not to admire Bree, finding herself in her element despite the circumstances. The dull pain of longing to see how her daughter would interact with her father awoke inside her. That brought her back to the present. She cleared her throat, looking at the rest of the horses. She mentally eliminated the thin mare in the back, favouring one of her legs and greeting the sight of humans with flattened ears.

"What about this one?" She pointed at a bit taller grey horse with swollen legs, before stepping closer to examine it, the skills gained long ago awakening slowly. The leg with oedema was cold and the tissue was soft so injury seemed unlikely.

"Bought her a while back now. The swelling wasn't as bad then, usually went away after some exercise. It's been getting worse since, especially in such weather."

Claire did some quick thinking. She hoped cooling the horse's legs with cold water, which wasn't hard to come by this time of year, combined with moving at the walk, would suffice for a day of travel and after that she hoped she could try to help the horse with some anti-inflammatory herbs. Perhaps a mixture of birch leaves, meadowsweet, milk thistle and hawthorn?

"What do you think, Bree?" she asked, seeing her daughter regretfully turn away from the bay.

"Even if it's not as bad as it looks, she wouldn't be able to carry two riders," Brianna pointed out, sensibly.

Claire nodded in agreement, wishing she had the forethought to bring along a horse dose of corticosteroids. Still, the same assessment could be applied to the bay that Bree returned to petting. And none of this changed the fact that they needed a mode of transportation if they were to have any hope of reaching Jenny and Ian's home before the nightfall.

"We don't actually have ten pounds on us," she addressed the man apologetically. "I never expected we would need to buy a horse. But I do have some gold jewellery with me that might be worth something close to that."

She reached into her bag and into the folds of her dress to retrieve two pouches that she gave the man for inspection. This was the best way she could think of bringing money with her as she journeyed back but at this point she doubted she would quickly find anyone willing to pay for ten pounds worth of golden trinkets so she would have to hope the man would be willing to take the payment in such form.

The old man took his time examining the lot, biting down on a simple ring to check if it was genuine. Then he scratched his chin.

"Tell you what, ladies. For that, I could give you those two mares and wish you good luck with them. You said you weren't planning to travel far so they might be able to carry you there. I could throw in some basic tack if you promise to take care of those girls."

Claire looked at Brianna for a second, who was at that moment wearing a hopeful look one usually observed in children hoping their parents would let them keep a stray cat. It was a pity in this particular case they would be gambling most of their money on the hope that two objectively discouraging mounts _might_ help them reach their destination.

Then again, Claire always had thought that Brianna inherited Jamie's instincts when it came to horses. They needed to get to Lallybroch _somehow_ and if worse came to worst, they had some emergency rations with them should their journey extend beyond the projected day.

"Then I suppose I couldn't have asked for a better deal," she managed to smile extending her hand.

The man clasped his hand with her, completing the deal.

Only once they stepped out to the damp November morning of the pre-industrial times, did the reality fully sink in of what their dubious common sense got them into. Perhaps it would have been better to wait with any transactions until after the modern charity ideas evaporated from their heads. Still, the deal was done now, so Claire could only hope the horses would carry them to their destination, even if it did turn out that they paid the man to let them relieve him of a burden of feeding large, useless animals.

Now she should probably focus on finding the way, with her only frames of reference being either almost two decades out of date or two centuries too early.

III

Ever since he had returned to Lallybroch, Jamie couldn't find a place for himself. He knew, of course, that he should feel relief at finally coming home, yet he couldn't help but feel there was something missing, some vital piece that would allow him to find comfort in the place. Instead, he was a stranger in his own home, not recognised by Jenny's now grown bairns and longing for something he could no longer have.

At times he thought if it wouldn't be easier to leave, find himself something to do elsewhere, if only to escape the feeling. But how could he, when this was the only place where there remained shadows of the things he once thought he could have? Lallybroch was where, on the good days, he could almost imagine his father just around the corner. It was where he once imagined settling with Claire and raising their bairns together.

So he stayed, day after day, going through motions, not finding it in himself to let go of the memories that where so dear to him. Sometimes, when he was unwell or tired enough, he could even imagine seeing his wife scolding him for getting himself into such state. And that had to be enough for him.

Sometimes, looking at his nephews and nieces he would catch himself wondering if Claire and their bairn made it back to her time safely. He was praying they did, but there were still so many things that could have gone wrong. After the brief hope that she had returned to him on Silkie's Isle, darker thoughts would drift to him more and more often. Surely there were some records in the future indicating his survival? What did it mean if she had not returned? Was she simply keeping her word to him to forget him and build herself a new life with her first husband? Or was she no longer there to come back to him? He knew she almost didn't survive the time they had lost Faith and his own mother's fate was a harsh reminder of just how dangerous childbirth could be.

There were times when those thoughts kept him awake at night and only throwing himself into the mundane tasks on the estate allowed him to chase away those dark musings, if only for a while.

This day was not particularly different from any other. He was trying to keep himself busy, as usual, attending to the horses and lecturing young Ian about the mud fever.

"You need to be careful about that, lad, especially this time of year. Washing the legs from the mud is usually enough but with fetlock like Merry's, you'd better use some oil on the feathers so it won't become a problem-"

The boy was nodding, when the sound of the dogs barking reached them from the outside. They both stepped out, expecting to see who the visitors causing the ruckus were. However, as soon as he caught a glimpse of one of the riders crossing the gate he paused, rooted in spot by the sight.

Granted, he had brief visions of Claire before. He would even go as far as to say he relished those, but never before had they interfered with his ability to perceive the reality around him. It seemed that wasn't the case this time, as no matter how he stared, his eyes kept insisting that the woman currently dismounting the horse was, in fact, his wife.

He stood speechless, focussed on her when she met his gaze and smiled a shy, watery smile.

"Hello, Jamie."

The voice was unmistakably Claire's, a sound much more real than any other time he was imagining seeing her. A gust of wind blew, playing with a single loose strand of her otherwise pinned-up hair. It was a small detail, one so characteristically _her_ , yet one he never recalled before in his visions. Jamie had a hard time breathing evenly. Then the world went black.

III

Claire honestly didn't know what she expected when they were approaching Lallybroch. In her head, she was going through different scenarios of greeting Jenny and Ian, somehow explaining her prolonged absence and inquiring if they had any knowledge relating to the fate of her husband.

What she most definitely did _not_ expect was to see Jamie himself, stepping out to the courtyard as soon as they arrived. Suddenly her thoughts went blank, all the carefully constructed scenarios evaporating. He was _there_. After years of mourning and heartbreak the fact that he was merely a few steps away seemed almost unfathomable.

He didn't change much, remaining as handsome as he ever was, and she suddenly felt self-conscious about the mark the time left on her own body. Still, the surreal realisation that he was scarcely a few steps from her took her breath away and pushed her to dismount, her thoughts swirling in disarray. Their eyes met. Unable to think clearly, she barely managed a greeting, not knowing what answer she could expect.

Whatever she was hoping for certainly was not what had actually occurred, which was him paling suddenly and collapsing to the ground to the alarmed shout of "Uncle Jamie!" from the boy who accompanied him.

All uncertainty forgotten she rushed to his side, her medical instincts taking over. She could only pray that her sudden arrival hadn't pushed him into cardiac arrest. That would be something she was in no way equipped to handle.

Claire loosened his collar, taking the vitals, noting with relief there didn't seem to be a problem with his heart function. She still couldn't claim complete relief though, before he displayed signs of waking up, blinking a few times, trying to focus on her. She caressed his cheek.

"Jamie..."

"You're real," he announced, visibly shocked by the notion.

She couldn't help tears appearing in her eyes as she grasped his hand.

"I am. So are you." She replied, voice heavy with emotion. "I thought you were dead."

"Claire..." He reached out to her, sitting up, then hesitated.

Seeing him stop himself was almost physically painful. All her doubts returned in a tidal wave, almost crushing her.

"Jamie? Should I have stayed away?" She whispered uncertainly. "Are you unhappy that I came back?"

That question got him moving, as he sprung to his feet, taking her arms and helping her up as well.

"Nay!" He exclaimed fiercely. "I _am_ happy. Tha mi cho toilichte, a Sassenach." He pulled Claire closer, embracing her. "I can just scarce believe you are truly here. So many times I imagined you with me when I needed you... but I could never touch you."

"You touch me now." She whispered as he took her hand, his fingers finding her ring, drawing her attention to it. "I never took it off," she confessed. "I couldn't."

For a moment he simply looked at her in wonder before his hand travelled to her cheek.

"Claire... I would very much like..." he hesitated again. "Would it be all right if I kissed you?"

She smiled at that. "Yes. Please, do."

That was apparently all the encouragement he needed as he met her lips, hesitantly at first, then more hungrily as if trying to make up for all the passion they missed through their separation. Once they broke off, she met his eyes again, taking his hand at the same time.

"There is one more thing." She informed him. "There is someone you should meet."

She led him to where Bree was standing, holding both horses.

"Jamie, I would like you to meet our daughter, Brianna."

III

At first all he could do was stare at the lassie with a lack of real comprehension. He was aware, of course, that they had a child. He also knew that time had passed. His own body was all the proof he needed in that matter. But some treacherous part of his mind insisted on keeping Claire forever frozen the way she was when she departed though the stones all those years ago. Perhaps imagining her cradling their bairn in her arms but no further. And it was so easy to retain that belief when she didn't seem to have changed all that much since he had seen her last...

Still, there could be no denying it. The young woman standing before him was undeniably real, looking at him with his father's brown eyes, his own red hair dancing around her face in disarray, and Claire's very own smile hesitantly blossoming on her lips. There could be no mistake as to who she was.

"Brianna," he repeated uncertainly, for a second almost believing all the old women's stories about them being of the fair folk and likely to disappear if their name was spoken.

"I did promise to name our child after your father," Claire reminded him softly from the side.

"Aye, you did," he acknowledged.

He couldn't take his eyes of the lass, tears threatening to appear in them.

"I'm not really sure what I'm supposed to say in a situation like this," she spoke. "I mean, I thought something better would come to me rather than 'hi, I'm your daughter'."

They shared a short and a bit tearful chuckle at that.

"I suppose it's as good introduction as any," he said, looking at her intently. "Christ, I never imagined you grown. I always thought of you as a wee bairn."

"I had a few years to spare, I thought I might just as well grow up," she joked before taking an uncertain step towards him.

That was all the encouragement he needed as he also stepped closer, pulling her into a hug, uttering her name as if it was a prayer. It was hard to imagine that he was actually holding his daughter in his arms. Then she shifted and he became aware of her still doing her best to hold the reins of their horses.

He looked around, as if only now coming back to reality and spotted Ian, looking at the whole scene with no small amount of confusion.

"Ian, come help with the horses of your aunt and cousin," he called to the lad, who quickly approached them, either eager to help or hoping for some explanation. Once he was close enough Jamie decided it was time for a proper introduction. He could hardly believe the joy he felt at the words he was about to say. Words that just yesterday he'd have never imagined passing his lips. "Claire, Brianna, this is Jenny and Ian's third boy, young Ian. Ian, this is your Aunt Claire and your cousin Brianna."

"But-" The lad started to say before thinking better of it. He bowed his head. "Very pleased to meet you Auntie. Cousin."

III

Just as they were concluding the introductions the door to the house opened and Jenny stepped outside.

"What's the commotion here then?" She asked her brother, before her gaze moved to the women standing next to him. "I-"

She paled as if she saw a ghost, though by her own assessment that was probably not very far from truth. Looking at the younger woman staring at her speechlessly, Claire decided to take initiative.

"Hello, Jenny," she greeted softly, before addressing the man that appeared behind his wife. "Ian."

"Claire?" The man responded in disbelief, then went down the front steps, moving closer to her, giving her the impulse to approach.

"It's so good to see you both," she said embracing him, then casting a cautious look at Jenny, who, while no longer appeared in shock, still had not moved from the top of the steps. Experimentally, she reached out her hand, only to see the other woman stiffen.

Ian, either not noticing his wife's reaction or wishing to divert the attention from it, spoke again.

"It really _is_ you, lass. We thought you..."

Claire could only nod, unsure what to say, not wanting to contradict any story Jamie might have told his family.

"I thought Jamie died as well," she confessed eventually.

"We grieved over you for years." The man was obviously moved, but she was spared from answering him, as Jamie approached from behind, responding in her stead.

"It was a terrible misunderstanding that kept us apart."

At that point Jenny finally descended the steps as well, joining them.

"Well, if you thought _Jamie_ was gone, that explains it then." There was an edge to her voice. "Where have you been all this time?"

Hesitating briefly, Claire chose to reply as truthfully as she could.

"Boston. It's a rather long story."

"It would have to be, I imagine." Jenny's voice had lost the warmth Claire knew it to carry before. She could only hope that after the woman had some time to process the situation they would have a chance to work on rebuilding the relationship between them.

For now, it would be hard to miss the questioning looks the elder Murrays were casting in Bree's direction. Claire motioned her daughter to come over.

"Jenny, Ian, I would like you to meet Brianna, our daughter."

For a moment the pair simply looked at the girl, who was visibly growing more and more nervous. It was one thing to wish to find one's family, it was quite another to have them stand before you apparently undecided what to make of you.

"Your _daughter_?" Jenny asked, the strange note in her voice even more pronounced.

Before they could formulate any response, Ian spoke next, in a more composed manner, looking carefully between Claire, Jamie and Brianna.

"I never thought I would see the day. Pleased to meet you, lass. Now, I'm sure there is quite a story behind your arrival, but you must have been on the road for a while so maybe we could all step inside and continue this after you've rested a bit?"

III

If Claire hoped she would be able to take advantage of the moment of rest to ask Jamie about the story he told his family without any witnesses, she was sorely disappointed. Even if he seemed content not to let them out of his sight for even a second, the flurry of activity connected to their arrival didn't allow them more than a minute of privacy. They had only had time to bring the bags upstairs when Jenny arrived to direct Brianna to the room she would be sleeping in. The girl's slightly panicked look at being the potential target of any questions, as well as, possibly the perspective of being on her own with the people unaware of the time she was from, pushed Claire to follow them. Whether no questions being voiced was the effect of her presence or her sister-in-law never intended to ask any, could be anyone's guess. Whatever the case, Jenny left, informing them that dinner would be served soon.

Thankfully between the general chaos of a large family and the continuous string of somewhat awkward introductions and re-introductions in the dining room, whenever the topic seemed to be heading in the direction that would require some more specific answer, the conversation was either interrupted or steered in another direction. In the end, Claire couldn't be sure if this experience didn't exhaust her more than time travel and a day of riding did.

As soon as the meal was over, she allowed herself to sigh tiredly, commenting offhandedly that she forgot how long the ride to Lallybroch was while catching Jamie's eye. It might have been years, but it seemed that in some things he could still read her without fail as he quickly expressed concern over their exhaustion and proposed they turn in early.

As soon as the door closed behind them, Claire sat heavily in an armchair by the fire.

"That was an _interesting_ dinner conversation," she spoke finally after a moment. "I don't suppose you could tell me what you've told them about my disappearance? Or did you tell them the truth after all?"

Jamie joined her in the other chair and looked at her seriously.

"None of the reasons for why we didna tell them then have changed. I doona know if I said something when I was brought here after the battle. I was wounded and feverish, I doona think I said anything but if I did, Jenny and Iain would likely think me delirious. After that, when they asked, I simply told them that you were gone. The very thought that I've lost you was painful, I couldna bring myself to concoct some story and they never pried, likely for the same reason."

"So whatever story we come up with should be fine? As long as I don't mention that Brianna and I travelled from Boston to Edinburgh by air?"

He chuckled and in that moment Claire couldn't help but feel as if they were never separated and last eighteen years never happened.

"Aye, probably best not to mention that. There are enough whispers about you as it is." He looked at her and hesitated. "Claire..."

"I missed you," she confessed, standing up and coming closer to him. He stood as well and a moment later captured her lips in a kiss.

"I missed you as well. So verra much," he replied after breaking off to take a breath.

Then, their movements slow, either from anxiousness or from the wish to savour the moment, they started undressing, intent on elaborating on just how much they longed for each other. As they moved to bed, their movements were hesitant at first, with them both trying to find the harmony that once came so easily. Soon enough it came to them, almost instinctively as their most intimate memories of each other clarified, allowing them to give themselves to passion.

III

Jamie awoke in the night, no longer used to sharing the bed with someone. He couldn't help but smile fondly as he looked down at Claire's sleeping form beside him, bathed in the light of the almost full moon.

"Mo bhean," he whispered reverently, almost in disbelief at having her here now that he'd awoken. _His wife_.

After such a long time the very concept seemed almost overwhelming.

She shivered slightly and he moved, securing the covers around her, careful not to wake her. Having her here, returned to him, seemed almost surreal in this calm, moonlit realm.

Jamie paused, his hand still on her arm where he was adjusting the covers. More than anything, his life taught him that hoping for the best was bound to end in sorrow and whatever moments of happiness there were, they were fleeting.

Could he afford to think this time was different and she had really returned to him? After the initial elation at being reunited with Claire he couldn't help the doubts that were rising again.

III

Claire woke up only to realise Jamie was no longer next to her. Drowsily she let her hand wander over the bed, searching for him, only to wake more fully when she didn't find him. She opened her eyes to look around the room lit by the flickering orange light of the fire.

Jamie sat next to the fireplace, looking into the flames.

"Why have you come back, Sassenach?" he asked quietly, eliciting a surprised look from Claire who sat in the bed.

"I thought you were happy that I did." She responded cautiously.

"Aye, that I am. I would treasure even the briefest moment with you being miraculously returned to me. But that has nothing to do with why _you_ have come back. Was it to be my wife again or to let me meet my daughter?"

"Do you really need to ask?"

"Aye, I do," He said as if this very admission cut into his heart. "I know what our wishes had been and what mine still are but I canna simply assume yours would still be the same. We've spent more years apart than we've been together. We are not the same people we once were."

"Perhaps not. When I decided to go back I did realise you would have had a life. But if that's the case we could treat this as a chance to get to know each other again."

"But to what end? Are you planning to stay or do you want to return to Boston and your life with Frank?"

Claire stood and approached him, taking his hand.

"Jamie, I don't have a life with Frank to go back to," she said gently.

He looked up sharply at that.

"But when you returned he took you back? He still loved you? He didn't leave you alone and with child?" he sounded horrified at the perspective.

"Yes, he took me back and accepted Brianna as his own," Claire clarified quickly to ease his concern.

"What did you tell him about me?"

"Everything. And then we never spoke about it again. It was hard for him. But he loved Brianna so we made it work."

"Then what happened? If you say you don't have a life with him to go back to, then something must have occurred?"

"He died in an accident. A while ago now, from my perspective. After that, it had only been me and Brianna."

"But at least for a while, you were happy with him?"

Claire honestly didn't know what kind of answer Jamie expected to that question. She slowly walked to her bag where, folded in an envelope were the papers she had found in Frank's desk, packed as an amulet for good luck as she prepared for the journey back.

"We were trying to be," she explained slowly. "We certainly were happy rising Brianna. And there is, I suppose, some level of comfort to be achieved when two people make enough effort together. There were times when there was some genuine happiness."

"And other times?"

Claire looked down, still holding the envelope.

"You have to understand, it wasn't always easy. We never managed to rekindle what we had before I travelled back. I suppose it was my fault. I was trying, but I never managed to keep the word I gave you to let go of what we had." She sighed. "Actually, I think I might have ruined his life. After the war, just as all the other couples were settling back in and enjoying life together, I disappeared without a word. With no note, no goodbye, just a passing comment that I'd like to pick some flowers. He spent two years torn between suspecting I was murdered and arguing with everyone that I wouldn't simply leave him without a word to be with a lover. Only to get me back, carrying another man's child. And despite that, he tried. We moved to America to get a new start, but I could never stop measuring up that relationship with what we had. In the end we ended up putting on a show of being a happily married couple. And still, he wanted to give you back to me."

She handed him the envelope and looked at him taking out the papers, hesitating briefly, then taking out a pair of glasses to read what they contained. He seemed embarrassed by needing the item, so she offered him an encouraging smile.

After carefully reading the first page, he looked up at Claire, scandalised.

"A divorce?"

She nodded, her smile turning a bit ironic.

"I suppose he could have tried for an annulment, but I don't know how well the fact that my marriage from 1743 predates my marriage from 1937 would have held up in court." She fished out the copy of the document from the university from the bottom of the stack. "He found you for me. He discovered you survived. However unlikely it may sound, the divorce papers are as close to his blessing as we could get from him. If only the accident hadn't prevented him from giving it to me."

Jamie let the papers fall to the floor as he took her hand and kissed it.

"You've returned to me, Sassenach. That's what matters most. Does it mean you intend to stay?"

"If you want me to stay, yes."

Smile spread on his face at those words.

"Of course I do, mo ghràidh. I just hope you won't miss Boston."

"I'm sure I'd miss _you_ more if I tried to go back to Boston from my time. And I don't think it would be a good idea to try the contemporary one, given that we'd have only about a decade of peace there. I think we can agree we've both seen enough wars to last a lifetime."

"Aye, that we did. But you're saying another is coming?"

"Not here but to America, yes. It will last for about nine years. The colonies are going to earn independence."

"So the fight will be to gain freedom from the British." Jamie said contemplatively, making her frown.

"That's a bit of an oversimplification but they managed just fine on their own so don't even entertain any ideas."

"I wouldn't risk contemplating joining another war after I just had my family returned to me. Not unless it meant the freedom of Scotland. I don't suppose in the future...?" he trailed off.

"I'm afraid as of 1966 it was still under the British rule. There _was_ the incident in 1950 when a group of young Scots stole the Stone of Destiny from Westminster and brought it to Arbroath Abbey so you might say the fight is ongoing, if less turbulently. And as a papist you might be interested to know that just a few months before we left with Brianna there was an official meeting between the pope and the archbishop of Canterbury where they signed the declaration to remove the conflict and reunite Christianity."

"I woulna call it much progress for two hundred years."

"You never know. Maybe a couple more decades will do it."

Jamie looked at the flames for a while.

"Aye, maybe." He nodded eventually. "But coming back to our discussion, I gather you recommend against trying our luck in the colonies? Do you think we should try to warn Aunt Jocasta?"

"If I recall, there was only one major battle in North Carolina during the war. And the American Civil War is still a century away. As long as she doesn't get involved in politics, she should be safe. On the other hand, you might want to convince your cousin Jared to move his business out of France before the French Revolution breaks out in 1789."

"I doubt he would still care at the age he would be then."

"True. Still, it won't hurt to drop a hint."

"Do you think it will help?"

"Honestly? I'm not holding much hope after our last attempts to circumvent the history. But it won't hurt either."

"Given the wonderful prospect of the wars in the future you've just presented, I doona suppose you can think of a place where one could settle peacefully?"

She smiled at him.

"Actually, Scotland sounds pretty good for that, now that you mention it."

"In that case, Sassenach, would you stay here with me?"

"As if you need to ask."

She took his hand and led him back to bed.

III

The next morning Claire woke up surprisingly well rested despite the early hour and the conversation she shared with Jamie in the middle of the night. She looked to her side, where her husband still slept, a smile playing on his lips.

Hearing some distant rustling downstairs she had to assume the activities of the household had already started for the morning so, not wanting to disturb Jamie's sleep, she quickly dressed and slipped out of the room to go downstairs.

She supposed that being a mother herself, she shouldn't be particularly surprised when, as soon as she got downstairs, she was met with Jenny and Ian's grandchildren, already preoccupied with playing. Many things might have changed throughout the ages but small children being prone to rising earlier than reasonable was decidedly not one of them.

"Good morning," she greeted, smiling at them. She thought back to the dinner to recall their names. "You are Angus and Henry, aren't you?"

The older of the two, Henry, nodded, returning the smile but Angus stepped behind him, biting his lip.

"Careful now, the wee lads might be a bit shy of strangers in the house."

Claire turned as she heard her sister-in-law's voice from the door.

"Jenny," she greeted.

"Claire," the other responded dryly.

"I really _have_ missed you," Claire confessed after a pause, unsure what to make of the other woman's behaviour.

"Well then, maybe you shouldn't have waited eighteen years to come back."

"I thought Jamie was dead," Claire began but she could see it only fuelled the fire in Jenny's eyes.

"And I suppose you also thought we've disappeared off the face of the earth? You were like a sister to me. If you thought Jamie was dead didn't you think we could have at least comforted each other?" Jenny's eyes were shining with unshed tears even as anger still rang in her voice. "And why did you not try to find him after the war? Why haven't you even sent us a letter to let us know you were alive?!"

"Because she was keeping her promise to me." Neither of them noticed Jamie as he descended the stairs until he spoke in answer to his sister's questions. "I didna expect to live through the battle. She wouldn't have been safe as the widow of the infamous Red Jamie and neither would you, if you were to give her shelter. But why would anyone hold anything against a respectable English lady called Claire Randall?"

Jenny gasped at the name, looking in terror between the two of them. A myriad of emotions went through her face before, finally settling on one, she voiced a question.

"Why would you ever consider using _that_ name, brother?"

"There were still people who remembered what Claire's name was before she married me and whether I liked it or not, through the experiences we had, she knew enough about that family to make it believable. But she couldn't risk maintaining any contacts that could lead to anyone questioning that identity." Jamie stepped closer, embracing his wife, while looking at his sister seriously. "We already lost one child when Claire tried to keep me from getting myself killed. This was the only way I could think of to keep her and the bairn safe, so I made her give me her word. After the war I heard the village she was staying in was burned by the Redcoats so even though I hoped she was safe somewhere away from me, I thought I lost her forever."

Even if the story wasn't entirely true, the sentiment behind it certainly was and so were the raw emotions it had awoken. Claire nodded at his side, his presence giving her enough strength to take over.

"I couldn't see myself returning to England after everything I've been through so it sounded like a good idea to start a new life for myself in Boston. That's where Brianna was born." She took a deep breath and turned to her husband, trying to put a lighter teasing tone in her voice in hopes it would fend off the tears. "Of course all that means that what you get for your efforts is an English-raised daughter who spent her whole life signing her name Brianna Randall."

Undeterred, Jamie returned her smile.

"I'm hoping the lass will break that habit once she's marrit." He responded before looking seriously at his sister. "Jenny, if you want to be mad at someone, let it be me. Claire's only fault in this matter was that she's spent all those years thinking me dead."

"I doona know if it would be possible to go back to the bond we had as sisters," the younger woman finally admitted.

"Then let's try to build it anew," Claire proposed, reaching out her hand. "I missed having a sister."

A moment later Jenny embraced her, both of them not bothering to hide the tears.

III

If Brianna were to be completely honest with herself, she didn't know where she should go from the point she had found herself at. When, in the morning, her mother came in carrying some clothes for her provided by her aunt Jenny (and she still couldn't quite get over the fact that in this case the title wasn't just honorific), there still was some surrealistic feeling about everything.

Their arrival the previous day was eventful, but in the back of her head there was still some tiny voice that kept insisting that she couldn't possibly have travelled in time and that everything she saw was, at best, a very large-scale open-air museum. By the time they arrived she was tired which, combined with the emotional impact of being face to face with her father whom she never expected to see so soon and wasn't even sure if she would ever see alive, had her almost completely impervious to everything else that was going on around her, culminating with her tiredly falling onto the bed and knowing nothing anymore.

Now that the morning came so did the unnerving feeling that she really might _not_ be dreaming and that they actually might have broken all the known rules of the universe, landing themselves in the past in the process. But the feeling remained just that, as she was trying to clumsily dress herself in the period appropriate attire (she swore to herself to do her best to keep the theatre dress for as long as she could until it fell apart - there really was nothing as convenient as zippers). It helped a bit that despite the circumstances talking with her mother in the natural, modern way took a bit of an edge from the experience.

That illusion was gone as soon as she stepped over the threshold of the room, suddenly realising what all the cautionary tales about being careful what you wished for were about. It had been easy when they were plotting with Fiona, trying to think of everything she might need to accompany her mother. Or when she was going through the Reverend's old tomes, trying to make her preparations look like casual interest. It had been even easier to fantasise about having a large family, with different blood relatives with whom she shared common traits.

Now she was hit with the realisation that she didn't even know what she could talk with them about. Favourite books? She didn't even know the publication dates of her favourite classics, but she was pretty sure many of them dated back to 19th century at the earliest. Politics? There was quite a leap between knowing some issues from history and discussing them as current events and besides, wasn't this the time when women were not supposed to show knowledge about such topics? She might just as well bring up Sputnik for a good measure.

She entered the parlour decidedly out of her element, feeling uncertain how to move naturally in her clothes and dreading having to speak for fear of saying a word too much. As she sat herself, as unassumingly as she could, in a corner, she was slowly reaching the conclusion that perhaps having her mother onboard with the whole idea of travelling with her from the start would have been a better idea. At the very least, she would have had time to give her some pointers. She sighed.

"You seem out of spirits today, cousin." She heard someone speak next to her and she turned to see who it was. Thankfully she could still somewhat recall the _first_ introduction from yesterday.

"I suppose you could say that. Ian, right?"

"Aye," the boy grinned. "Is there something that could make you feel better?"

"Not as such. I was just thinking about how hard it is to adjust. All those years my mum was my only living relative. Now I can't even remember everyone's names, even though we were just introduced yesterday. How embarrassing is that?"

Ian laughed. "I suppose I can help you with that at least. That lass helping my mum is my sister Janet. She and Michael are twins, but don't let that fool you, they couldn't be more different."

Bree laughed at that. "You do realise you'll probably need to tell me that all over again at least a few times, right?"

"I did offer to help you, cousin. And when you hear all the stories about them, it will be easier to remember."

"Embarrassing ones?"

The boy grinned. "Aren't those the most memorable?"

In the end she had to admit, her cousin's company made her feel marginally better. Not to mention, with his help she actually had some hope of remembering the names of her closest relatives, which was always a plus.

III

The rest of the day Bree spent in a daze, still not quite believing what she was seeing was real but trying to go along with everything, hoping the point would come at which everything would start feeling natural. After all, she thought observing her parents as they were giving her a tour of the grounds, her mum seemed to have adjusted easily enough.

All the feelings seemed to come to a boil late in the evening as she was tossing and turning in the bed, unable to sleep. Everything was eerily quiet. She never paid much attention to the background noise that surrounded her in the twentieth century until she found it suddenly gone.

After over two hours of being unable to sleep and battling with her thoughts, she finally decided to abandon any attempts at going to sleep. Wrapping herself tightly in a blanket she padded out of her room, directing her steps to the living room downstairs. Once there, she sat by the window, looking at the stars outside.

There was at least something familiar in this unfamiliar world. She had to hold onto that. Otherwise she would have to admit that she actually had no idea what she was doing. Oh, she had the vague outline planned. Find her father and get to know him. Stay together with Mum. Meet her extended family. Too bad the details eluded her now that she was confronted by the past.

She blinked, suddenly realising how bad the analogy she'd chosen was. Wasn't looking at the stars exactly like what she was doing _now_? Confronting in the present what from neutral point of view should be the past? With their past as her present interweaving because of the distances the light was travelling?

She shook her head. What a time to delve into such thoughts. She couldn't even figure out how to interact with her own family and she was expecting to find the answers about the universe?

III

"Canna sleep, lass?"

Brianna looked away from the window to her father standing behind her, holding a candle.

"Not really," she admitted. "It's too quiet here. I'm not used to that. Back home there was always something - radio, television, cars in the street, even an occasional plane overhead- " she caught herself. "Sorry. You probably have no idea what I'm talking about."

He couldn't help but smile at his daughter's blush.

"Yer mother did regale me with tales of horseless carriages, air ships and contraptions that used vibrating air to make the sound travel from one place to another. And while I don't ken what this _tele-vision_ is, I still remember enough of Greek and Latin to guess it would have to be something similar, dealing with images. While I have no notion how any of that could work, I believe I can still follow the conversation."

She smiled back.

"I would wonder what you were like," she confessed. "Mum always said you were smart, had a great sense of humour and were ready to face anything but things like that don't really tell you much unless you already know someone."

"I suppose they don't," he agreed, stepping closer, settling next to her.

"She also said that you loved us very much." Bree continued, feeling tears prickling in her eyes. "Every summer she would take me to Scotland to- to visit your grave."

That took him by surprise.

"My grave?"

She nodded absently, then went to explain.

"Not actually yours, obviously. In the future, there are stones on Culloden moor for all the clans whose members died in the battle. We would always lay flowers at the Fraser stone. And Mum would talk to you, as if you were there with us. I think that actually gave me a slightly better idea of what you were like, just listening to how Mum talked to you."

She was hoarse now, and he slid an arm around her back in a gesture of comfort.

"Oh, lass."

"For so many years we thought you had died there... I think that place actually made Mum lose her last hope."

"But you said the gravestone was for the whole clan. Then why-"

"There is also a building there, a museum of sorts with the mementos from the battle." Bree talked slowly, taking deep breaths. "There are display cases with the items that were found with the bodies on the field. Those are mostly what one could expect, buttons, rings, trinkets and the like. But in one case there is this piece of amber with a dragonfly inside."

Jamie went absolutely still.

"And Claire saw it."

"Yeah. The first time she did, she actually had to ask me to help her get outside. She thought she was hiding it, but right then I knew it had to be something belonging to you."

"To us," he corrected quietly. "It was a wedding gift that she wanted me to keep. I thought it lost forever after I was carried unconscious from the battlefield."

Brianna sighed, tossing her hair back in frustration.

"It's just so- so _pointless_. If it wasn't for an old bug in a bit of tree sap maybe we would have found each other sooner."

"Aye, perhaps. But even if you knew I survived we might not have found each other. It hadn't been long since I was able to return to Lallybroch." Jamie pulled his daughter closer, letting her rest her head on his arm. "God knows what would have happened if you came back sooner. I know I would have dearly wished to be able to see you grow up but if that was not possible then perhaps it was for the best that you were safe where- _when_ you were. Tis enough for me that you have returned to me now. I never dared to hope even for that much."

"I guess we have some lost time to make up for, huh?" she responded, aiming for an upbeat tone and failing as her sleepiness showed through it.

"Aye, that we have, a Leannan. But for now you should probably try to get some sleep."

She yawned. "I suppose I could try."

III

"Mum?"

Claire looked up at her daughter slipping into the room. The girl was frowning.

"What is it, sweetheart?" she asked in concern.

"How did you do it? The first time, I mean."

"Do what, Bree?"

"Adjust to this all? I thought it would come to me after the first couple of days. I should already know all this from the stories you were telling me and from Daddy's books but it's hard."

Claire ran her hand over Bree's back in a comforting gesture.

"I never implied it was easy. I had no choice at first so it might have been something of a sink or swim reaction. And at first, I wasn't doing as well as you might think. I suppose the fact that when I first landed here I was just a few months away from the frontlines didn't hurt either. After that, everything else seemed comforting in comparison. Is it really that bad for you?"

Brianna sighed, shaking her head. "Not all of it. It's really great to be able to get to know my father. Uncle Ian, Janet and Ian are very nice. But sometimes I just feel like nobody gets me. Nothing is familiar here. This morning I was talking to Maggie and she was positively _shocked_ I hadn't been looking for a husband for a few years now. I'm just _eighteen_. I only just finished school."

With the corner of her eye Claire saw Jamie standing in the doorway. She glanced at him quickly to acknowledge his presence before turning her focus back to her daughter.

"You know, even back in the sixties there were girls who intended to marry straight out of high school or hold a job only for a short while before finding themselves a husband. People are entitled to different priorities and expecting different things from life."

"But I never was one of those girls! And it's like there are no other options here. I thought I'd go to the university. Get a degree like you did. Maybe not in medicine but in something worthwhile. I intended to work to be independent even if I decided to marry."

"Bree, you don't have to conform to the societal norms you are not comfortable with. I know by coming here you had to give up some of the options but that doesn't mean you need to give up who you are."

"So what? I should just cut my hair put on some trousers and go on to apply to the university like I intended? I mean, you were the only woman in your year, maybe I could try to beat that."

Jamie's short laugh finally alerted his daughter to his presence.

"With us for the parents nobody would be likely to even be surprised if you tried that, lass." He fully entered the room now, closing the door behind him. Then he looked at his daughter solemnly. "Brianna, I never even dared to hope I would get to see you one day. That I did, I hold to be nothing short of a miracle. But if you are unhappy to be here, I don't want you to feel you are obliged to stay."

Bree looked at her father for a long moment.

"I don't," she finally said. "I mean, I _want_ to get to know you. I want to learn what it means to have a real family. I just don't know if I can handle pretending to fit into this time to do that."

"Then don't pretend, a Thasgaidh. Be yourself. I'm sure I for one would prefer to get to know the lass you really are, not the one you imagine you should be trying to be."

Claire smiled at the pair before hugging her daughter.

"And remember, you can talk to us if you ever feel overwhelmed. We _will_ understand. Even if you decide you need to go back because the only field you see your future in is aerospace engineering."

Brianna chuckled. "You know, now that you mention it, wasn't the first glider built around 1804? I wonder if it would be possible to push that forward a couple of decades."

III

After they were alone again, Claire leaned on Jamie's shoulder, closing her eyes for a second.

"You seem to be rather good at parenting, given you've been thrown into it so abruptly." She informed her husband.

"I'm doing the best I can, Sassenach." He went silent for a moment. "Brianna said you were in a medical school? You're a doctor now?"

Claire blinked, realising suddenly the number of things they still needed to share to fully learn about each other's lives. She couldn't quite decide if such casual unawareness was better or worse than keeping secrets consciously. "Yes. Surgeon."

He smiled at her fondly. "You always were one. Now you have a title to go with it."

"I can understand Brianna's wish to have skills allowing her independence. My degree saved us after Frank died and we had to fend for ourselves."

"Then I'm even more glad you had the opportunity to get it. Though knowing you, I'm sure you'd have managed either way. If I recall, you always _were_ independent and resourceful. And in that aspect, I can see Brianna is definitely her mother's daughter."

"I don't suppose you have any idea where her stubbornness and hot temper could be coming from then?"

He laughed.

III

Brianna looked critically at the horse she was currently brushing. While the mare's back still sloped too steeply for her liking, she was hoping the better musculature after a number of days of flatwork wasn't just her wishful thinking. She couldn't help a twinge of jealousy over the way everyone here seemed to have more patience in waiting for results. Was the faster pace of life another side-effect of being out of her time or was it simply the fact that she wasn't raised on a farm where you couldn't expect things to happen instantaneously?

She petted the horse and went back to the brushing, wondering if she really stood a chance in making a life for herself here. On the one hand, she couldn't help but doubt she could build a real future for herself still a century away from first wave feminist movement and popularisation of indoor plumbing. On the other, hadn't she thought fondly of the slower pace of life in Scotland, back when she had lived in America? Hadn't she longed for a family that she was only now slowly getting to know?

So perhaps she wouldn't get married - the laws in this day and age wouldn't exactly be on her side if she did, but neither did Jane Austen and she managed to survive without it, didn't she? Then again, her mother seemed to have had some luck in finding someone able to respect her despite the times. And so, apparently, had Aunt Jenny... but she certainly still had time to think of such things. She was in no hurry to commit to anything, that was for sure.

Bree blinked, her thoughts travelling back to Miss Austen. Maybe that was an idea - trying to write some books to get an income. If they did well enough, perhaps she could sneak in a message for Fiona to find in the twentieth century so she could give her friend a sign she was doing all right? She wondered if science fiction would get any readership now. It was supposed to be the age of Enlightenment, right?

"Ye keep that up, lass and you'll soon be able to see yer reflection in her coat."

She turned, startled by her father's voice.

"She seems to be enjoying that," she explained as Jamie stepped closer to pet the animal.

"Aye, that she does. It still baffles me how you ended up with horses like that. I've seen you work with her so I ken you must have realised what you were doing."

She grinned. "Mum always implied I got my horse skills from you. And honestly? It was in equal parts feeling sorry for them and not having much choice. We didn't exactly have real money that wouldn't pose awkward questions."

"Questions?"

"Oh, you know, things like 'who is Queen Elisabeth'?"

He looked surprised. "Elisabeth Tudor? Why would she have anything to do with your money?"

Brianna blinked, then laughed, digging in her pockets for the coin she found in her jeans and ended up carrying with her as a good luck amulet.

"Elisabeth _the second_ , actually."

She handed her father the shilling for inspection, showing the Queen's profile. He looked at it briefly, then flipped it over. He frowned. For a second she thought it was being confronted with the tangible bit of a future, with the date 1960 clearly visible on the coin but when he spoke she realised the reason should have been more obvious in hindsight.

"A Scottish coin?"

True to his word, a single lion rampant graced the reverse of the shilling.

"I guess. I mean, it's still a _British_ coin. There is also a version with the English coat of arms. They are both in circulation. There were two variants for as long as I can remember. Which, I suppose, isn't terribly long, but that's the best I can tell you. Perhaps Mum would be able to tell you more."

"Aye, perhaps," he said a bit distractedly, still looking at the coin.

It suddenly occurred to her how much it had to mean to him, after witnessing the Highland culture practically being eradicated before his eyes as a retaliation for the rising, to see a proof that Scotland was not forgotten in the future.

"Would you like to keep it?" She asked uncertainly.

"I wouldna want to take a memento away from you."

"It's a good luck charm for me. I have a feeling it could be much more to you."

"Thank ye."

He looked at her, visibly touched and she suddenly realised that what she really wanted was to be the part of _this_. It wasn't even so much a decision on her part as suddenly being aware that for all her doubts she never really intended anything else.

She grinned, feeling some weight lifting from her shoulders.

"Besides, when it comes to having some good luck from the future I have a backup plan anyway. I mean, the earliest horserace results I found in the newspaper archives dated back to 1777 but I guess as investment plans go, it could be worse," she said innocently, going back to petting her horse. "Incidentally, do you know what the market for futuristic books is right now? I was hoping to look into that."

The End

**Author's Note:**

> Reviews will be appreciated.


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